HIS FAKE BRIDE, HIS REAL OBSESSION

The Scandal Breaks

Evelyn’s Point of View

I didn't knock.

The instant I stepped into Damian Wolfe's office, the air was charged, tension between us crackling like a live wire. He sat behind his black, sleek desk, back in his chair, one hand lying idly on the armrest and the other shuffling through a file. He hardly glanced up when I came in, but I caught the ghost of a smirk at the edge of his lips.

“Ms. Carter.” He talked with ease, as though he had been expecting me.

I slammed the door behind me. “What the hell was that? You’re really cutting departments and staff, Mr. Wolfe?”

He didn't rush to answer. Instead, he closed the file on his desk with careful thought, his fingers intertwining as he regarded me. His eyes were unreadable, a dark, bottomless grey that was like storm clouds before they burst.

“By that, if you’re referring to the meeting,” He said coolly. “That was called leadership.”

I approached, putting my hands on his desk. "No, that was insane. I don't know what the board is thinking."

He arched a brow, clearly amused by my anger. “Do elaborate.”

I breathed sharply, trying to gather myself. "You attacked the board with your move to fire a quarter of our workers." You didn’t consult anyone, didn’t even bother understanding the impact. You just swung the axe and expected everyone to nod along.”

“Because it was necessary and oh, I didn’t just swing the axe.” He shook his head. “I kept the axe on the table of the board members, and they all agreed with me swinging it.”

I let out a short, humorless laugh. “Necessary? Do you even hear yourself? The board members don’t even care about the well-being of their staff, all they care about is their pockets!”

He didn't answer. His face was blank, but there was something in his eyes—something pointed, something analytical.

"Do you think I made that decision lightly?" He said. "I'm here to clean up a mess, not to make friends or worry about what made the mess or even how it was created."

"You're not being of any help, Mr. Wolfe, you're moving in the opposite direction." My fists were tight, nails biting into my palms. "You're reacting as though you can't be reasoned with!"

A slow smile lingered on his lips. "And yet, you're still here, challenging me. That means you think I can be reasoned with."

I parted my lips, ready to snap back, but then—I felt something shift in the way he looked at me, the pitch of voice he employed that was so low, so natural in its command. It was recognizable, so utterly recognizable. And in an instant, the notion flashed into my mind like a gust of frigid air.

No. It wasn’t possible. And yet—

For a second, I saw him again. Not as Damian Wolfe, interim crisis manager, but as the man from Paris. The man whose touch had burned into my skin. The man who had disappeared without a trace after one night that had haunted me ever since.

I swallowed hard, pushing the thought away. No. This was ridiculous. Damian Wolfe wasn’t him. He couldn’t be.

“You’re quiet.” He observed. “Have you run out of things to say or rather, more insults to throw at me?” His head tilted slightly, studying me like I was some kind of puzzle.

I forced a breath. “I just don’t know how someone like you ended up here.”

“Interesting.” That smirk returned. “Someone like me?”

I straightened. “You act like you own the place. Like you don’t owe anyone an explanation.”

He leaned forward, elbows resting on the desk. “Maybe because I don’t.”

God, he was infuriating. And yet, for all that I wished to focus on my rage, the nagging feeling wouldn't go away. My mind returned to the recollection—Paris, the dimmed lighting of that hotel suite, the way he had handled me as though he already knew every inch of me. The way he had looked at me before he left.

I shook my head. No. I was being ridiculous. Even though he never told me his real name back then despite me telling him mine, this man right here couldn’t be him.

Or perhaps, it could. Given that they were both arrogant sons of the devil.

“Tell me, Evelyn.” Damian spoke, his tone lowering just slightly. "Why do I have the feeling you're looking at me like you've seen a ghost?"

I caught my breath at his voice, the feel of my name on his lips. Suddenly I connected two and two about the face from that unforgettable one-night stand I'd had a couple of years before, and I knew it. The realization sent a shock through me, and I struggled to keep my expression neutral. The beard from back then which was gone from his chin was the deceiving factor.

He didn’t look or act like he recognized me. Or at least, if he was, he was doing a good job of it. I took a step back, my heart pounding all of a sudden, wanting to create some distance between us. I had anger welling up inside me, compacting tightly like a fist as I remembered how he had vanished without explanation, leaving me with questions that weren't answered. And now, here he was in my world as if he had never been in my past.

And Mia had said he was a ghost. I nearly snorted at the thought.

I straightened my spine. "You're not quite as untouchable as you believe, Mr. Wolfe, one way or another, I will find out what your motive is."

Something caught in his eyes, but it came and went too fast to catch. "We'll see about that."

I turned on my heel and went out before I could get fully lost in the past.

***

I ran into Mia that evening at my favorite haunt—a hidden bar in the city center, far from the stresses of the corporate wilderness. She was already there when I arrived, two glasses in front of her, her face etched with curiosity.

“Alright.” She said the moment I sat down. “Tell me everything.”

I exhaled slowly. “Damian Wolfe is dangerous.”

Mia raised a brow. “Well, yeah. We knew that.”

“No, I mean—” I hesitated. I hadn’t told her about Paris. About him. “There’s something off about him.”

She leaned forward. “We also already established that fact, but define ‘off.’”

I hesitated. “He’s too controlled. Too calculated. It’s like he’s playing a game none of us know the rules to.”

Mia sipped her drink, thoughtful. “That track. I did some digging.”

I glanced at her. “And?”

She lowered her voice. “Despite the deep search, no one really knows where he came from. His background is clean—too clean. No scandals, no past mistakes, nothing. Like someone wiped his history.”

A chill ran down my spine. “You think he did it himself, erased everything? But then, how did he get hired as a crisis manager then?”

Mia held my gaze. “Evelyn, maybe, the board knows more than they’re letting on, and I think they brought him in for a reason other than the fixing of the company.”

Before I could respond, Mia’s phone buzzed. She picked it up, her expression shifting into something darker.

“What is it?” I asked.

She flipped the screen towards me, and my insides plummeted.

A breaking news message scrolled on the screen: CONFIDENTIAL ASTERCORP DOCUMENTS LEAKED—INSIDER CORRUPTION CHARGES Surface FROM STRATEGIC DEPARTMENT.

I grabbed my own phone, reading the article all the way through. My heart pounded in my ears as I read the story. Someone had accessed classified documents. The leaked information showed executives had been involved in illegal activity, funneling money through hidden accounts, and then my blood ran cold when I read that the breach had been traced to my department.

Mia’s eyes widened. “Evelyn—”

“I didn’t do this.” I whispered.

“I know, but right now, it may look like you did with the incident that had happened and all.” She said, shaking her head.

I swallowed hard, my fingers tensing around the edge of the table. There was no mistaking what this was. I was being set up.

I could feel the flush rising in my chest, the kind that builds when anger and fear are combined in a toxic mix. My mind racing, I attempted to connect the dots, but all that I was able to come up with was a string of roadblocks.

Who would want to frame me? I didn’t have enemies—at least, none I knew of.

"Who else knows?" I demanded, my voice barely a rasp.

Mia stayed, her gaze flicking towards the door as if anticipating someone to come in at any moment. "Everyone most likely, this news is everywhere."

A knot tightened in my stomach. "I need to fix this, Mia. You have to help me."

She nodded, though her expression was grim. "I will.”